


An Unlikely Friendship

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aobajousai, Datekougyou | Date Tech, Friendship, Fukuroudani, Karasuno, M/M, Shiratorizawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 07:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: Fukurodani's volleyball team travels to Miyagi for a week of training and practice matches, each day of the week dedicated to a different school. Akaashi explores an older part of town and discovers an old tea shop. Inside, he meets Semi Eita, and from there, a new friendship blooms.





	An Unlikely Friendship

Time slows down in Miyagi.

Sendai is quiet, much more so than the well known Tokyo bustle that Akaashi is familiar with.

The streets don't hold as many people, leaving room to actually breathe rather than suffocate through the surge that is Tokyo's rush hour. He finds that he doesn't have to maneuver around others, muttering quiet 'excuse me's, nor does he have to suffer sore shoulders that come from being shoved by rushing businessmen and women and the numb acknowledgement that accompanies his likely bruised joints.

In Tokyo, everything is modern—a metropolitan looming with skyscrapers and bright lights. Giant streets stretch across the city, their crossing points a human hazard as crowds of people wait on curbs, all antsy to get home or sluggish with alcohol pumping through their veins. And everything is grey. Grey-toned suits, grey concrete, grey slabs of cement that make up the towering walls under a grey sky.

In Akaashi's mind, Miyagi holds a quiet sort of charm.

There's a certain tranquility that comes from the countryside and a need to respect his surroundings. Here, the buildings are older and much smaller. All worn and grey from being weathered down from passing storms and flooding seasons. But they're adorned with spots of corbeau moss, some larger than others, two dimensional stalagmites and stalactites that grow increasingly long with each season. A few lucky establishments harbor twisting ivy that climb up walls to reach toward blue skies and a bright, ochroleucous sun. And everything is green. Green leaves, green mountains, green grass that make up equally green fields.

Without his team around him, he's left to his own devices. There's no need to keep watch over Bokuto's energetic disposition. Or discourage Komi from inflating Bokuto's energetic state. Or subdue Konoha's wisecrack comments, some passive aggressive but never stinging with venom. Or even Sarukui, who normally goes along with the flow. Actually, Akaashi wouldn't mind too much if Washio had joined him, as the middle blocker is normally quiet, only speaking up when he feels the need to speak up.

But the trip to Miyagi from Tokyo had been long, spanning over three hours on multiple train lines that Akaashi didn't bother memorizing. From the get go, he had sported a headache. Waking early has never been his forte and this morning was no exception. Add that to Bokuto's mysterious morning energy, and Akaashi was left with a migraine that spread through his brain like lightning.  

Now, he has some free time to roam, the rest of his team splitting off to explore Sendai. The last he had heard, Bokuto had set out to look for Karasuno, Konoha at his side, so Akaashi doesn't have to worry about the pair getting lost and rotting in the forest. He'd taken a direction toward an older part of town, surveying bookshops, temples, and shrines. The other advantage to being alone is a quiet atmosphere that he rarely ever gets at home. By now, his headache has shrunk to a slight throb that he can handle with a slight pop of medicine.

Sendai is farther north than Tokyo, so whenever he breathes, he gets a lungful of cold and unpolluted air. It's a little different and had burned a little the first time, but ultimately, it has become a sensation he can't quite get enough of, inhaling deeply until his lungs nearly burst from strain.

Maybe some mountain air will help subdue his headache completely.

God knows he needs it.

 

\--

 

He finds himself standing in an old tea shop, one hand wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag, the other wiping against his sweats. There's a short line, and he takes a chance to glance at the menu. There are various teas but only one option for coffee. Judging by the single carafe, the lack of espresso machine, and the pile of sugar packets and pockets of cream, they aren't lying. So when he gets to the front, he simply asks for a steaming cup of green tea.

The real problem arises after he finishes paying and quickly receives his small yunomi cup, bobbing his head fervently when the little old lady offers to refill it whenever he finishes. Turning, the first thing he notices is that all the seats are taken. All of them are occupied, mainly with old couples and families that leave no seat unattended.

That is—except one. It makes up one of two old, wooden chairs, opposite of one another at a small, round table, one of which a lone young man occupies.

Akaashi blinks, hand tightening around the strap of his bag, nails digging into the leather, and does another sweep of the area with hope that he can sit and rest. No luck.

Until he makes eye contact with the young man, who's now staring at him. Akaashi is about to turn his head when to his surprise, the stranger gestures at the empty seat with a nod. When Akaashi doesn't move, startled into staring, the stranger sighs, rolls his eyes, and beckons him over.

Every fiber of Akaashi's metropolitan-honed senses tell him to turn around and ask the kind old woman for a to-go cup instead. Tells him that he can pretend he hadn't seen the stranger but was instead staring _past_ him at the old bamboo painting behind his head. Tells him that this guy will potentially be shady as hell and that Akaashi will either a) be scammed into buying something, b) be bullied for looking like a tourist, or the worst case scenario, c) be lured into a dark alleyway and brutally beat up and left for dead on the street.

But this isn't Tokyo.

And he doesn't have Bokuto's constant, ridiculous imagination.

He turns his head to make sure that the stranger isn't gesturing at someone else, and when he finds no one near him, he decides that if he gets embarrassed, he can leave without ever seeing these people ever again. With his internal guard up, he makes his way towards the young man, who's gone back to scribbling in his notebook. As he nears, the stranger looks up, and Akaashi pleasantly surprised to see that they're both around the same age.

Before he can open his mouth, the stranger starts to speak without looking up. "Place is usually crowded, so this is the only empty seat here."

Akaashi hesitates, hand tightening around his cup. He still doesn't sit, awkwardly standing next to the empty seat. The stranger notices his hesitation and with a sigh, lifts his head and yanks out an earbud.

"You don't have to. Only if you want." Then he plugs his earbud back in and turns back to his notebook.

Ok, so he's offering an out. No scammer would do that, right? He can't possibly have any ulterior motives. No way...maybe? But at this point, Akaashi is standing there at a loss, so he slides his bag into his seat and settles down.

Now that he has a better look at the stranger, he's convinced that he can't be that much older than himself. In fact, he bears a strong resemblance to Karasuno's setter, Sugawara Koushi, though Sugawara has rounder features and his eyes aren't quite as intense. The Sugawara-lookalike also has dip-dyed dark tips, thrown into disarray among ashy blond hair—obviously carded through with frustration.

Akaashi looks away when the stranger turns to meet his gaze and pulls out his book, settling down to read. And then they're left in silence, not communicating once nor interacting. Excluding when the stranger moves Akaashi's cup to make more room for a hefty calculus textbook.

Other than that, nothing happens, and he quickly immerses himself in his novel. So he's surprised when he finally looks up to find a darkening sky and an empty seat opposite him.

 

\--

 

"Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi!"

Even five rooms down, Akaashi can hear Bokuto down the hall, distorting his name with a gargle and a choke as he tries to speak (shout) for his attention. With a resigned frown, he shuts his notebook and stands to open the door. Instead, he's nearly bowled over as Bokuto, towel wrapped around his neck with a light sheen of sweat on his brow, bursts in, Konoha at his heels.

"Look at this! Look what I found!" he exclaims, and a charm is roughly shoved into Akaashi's face. He squints and pulls his head back. Bokuto presses forward with excitement, and Konoha—the jerk—only leans on the doorframe with a small, sly grin.

It's a small charm with the kanji for 'luck' carved into the wooden surface. It takes him a few tries to read it because in Bokuto's grip, it continuously spins.

"That's nice, Bokuto-san," he says and moves aside because now that his captain is here, he knows he won't leave.

"Right?!" Bokuto agrees and holds it up to his golden eyes, shining bright with excitement. "We found it at one of those old shops with a _ton_ of cool things! There were scrolls—" He counts on his fingers. "—little blade-thingies, fans—"

"—basically, a bunch of small trinkets," Konoha interrupts. Bokuto stops and nods frantically. He waves his arms, charm flailing in his grip.

"You should come with us! It was really cool." He ends with a bright smile, one so bright that Akaashi squints in reflex. At his eager expression, Akaashi nearly agrees but then thinks carefully about his life decisions.

"We'll see," he answers. There—not a yes, nor is it a no. A good in-between answer. Good enough because Bokuto lets its go with surprising ease. He runs his fingers over the charm, brushing against the carved kanji, then curls them until it's snug in his fist.

"Oi, oi," Shirofuku pokes her head through the door and claps her hands. "Coach says it's lights off."

"Yukie!" Bokuto whines. "I just got out of the shower."

Suzumeda pops in after Shirofuku. "That's what happens when you shower last."

 

\--

 

Akaashi finds himself standing in front of the old tea shop again, hands tightening on the hem of his shirt. He's there a bit earlier than the day before, but it's as busy as ever, old men and women going in and hardly any coming out. All of them staying to chat with one another.

However, this time, after ordering his tea, luck finds its way to his side, and he finds a table near the back. It's a little dirty, so he swipes a napkin over the top and settles his bag on the surface. Then he pulls out some homework, the chatter and laughter from his neighbors becoming white noise in his ears.

He loses track of time, stuck in the middle of finishing his English homework. And soon enough, the old lady at the counter is perched in the seat next to him, offering him a refill in his old but well preserved yunomi cup.

"Would you like some more hot water?" she asks. Too surprised to respond, he bows his head and holds the cup with both hands. She chuckles and pours him some steaming water.

"Hello, grandmother. Is anyone sitting there?"

Both Akaashi and the old woman look up to see the young man from before. He sends the old woman a kind smile and offers an arm, which she takes, and he hauls her up, taking care that she's standing straight without teetering over.

"Always the gentleman, Semi," she chuckles, patting his arm. So that's his name—well, part of it. "If only my grandson were as nice as you." Then she grasps onto the handle of her pot and hobbles to the next table.

"All right, there we go," Semi says and turns back to Akaashi, previous question hanging in the air. It takes him a second, but he gestures at the empty seat, and Semi takes a seat next to him.

"Is this your family's shop?" Akaashi asks, pulling his yunomi cup closer to himself. He breathes in the steam and notes that the ceramic is beginning to sear his fingertips. Semi scoffs and shakes his head.

"No, but I've been coming here long enough that we know each other pretty well. It helps that she's my friend's grandmother," he answers and unzips his bag to pull out another thick textbook, though it's noticeably less thick than his calculus book. Akaashi immediately grabs his own bag and pulls it to his chest to make some extra room for them both. He makes to put it away when Semi nods at it.

"Volleyball fan?" Semi asks. Taken back, he gazes at Semi, wide-eyed, until the latter crooks a smile and points at his bag. Akaashi's eyes flit down to see the volleyball charm swing into view from behind his bag, looped around the strap.

"You could say that," he says and stuffs the bag between his seat and the wall, out of Semi's view.

Semi cocks a brow and tilts his head, exhaling a sharp laugh. "Sure, all right. What position do you play?" Akaashi can only stare at him because how did he know? What is it about country people and reading others? Just yesterday, an old man he'd passed had offered him a charm for warding off bad luck, telling him that he'd have a wonderful visit and that good fortune was in his future, which he remembered verbatim: "New people and friendships are in sight."

The bafflement must show on his face because Semi's smile grows wider, and he leans back, crossing his arms and growing smug. "Your hands. They're callused in a way only a volleyball player's hands would."

He glances down at his hands, fingers moving to touch the hardened skin from nights of late practice. Semi uncrosses his arms and places a supinated hand on the table, displaying the pattern of calluses speckled across his palm and fingers, most of which mirror Akaashi's own hands. "If I had to guess...setter?"

"Yes," Akaashi answers. "I play setter on my team. Do you?"

At that, Semi's smile falters a bit, growing a little bitter. "I used to play setter. Still do sometimes. But on my team, I mainly play pinch server." He curls his fingers in and out, flexing them. "But I always prefer playing setter." Akaashi doesn't know how to respond, and it shows because he continues, "I'm Semi Eita."

He holds out a hand. Akaashi watches him, and then hesitantly places his palm in his hands. He feels the calluses that Semi points out, rough and thick from years of playing the same beloved sport. There's no way to explain the connection he immediately feels toward the stranger, though his nervousness and caution, built from years of living in one of the most densely populated areas in Japan, warn him not to give too much away. Against his better judgment, he responds.

"Akaashi Keiji."

Maybe the mountain air is getting to him.

 

\--

 

The resounding slam of the ball against the floor ricochets around the gym, followed by silence as it bounces to a stop right as it rolls into the opposite wall. And then the air is filled with roars of victory and groans of defeat.

Bokuto immediately makes his way to Akaashi, wrapping his arms around his smaller, slighter frame and lifting him into the air. He spins and squeezes, laughing as Akaashi attempts to push him off. He's accosted with the smell of heavy deodorant and the feeling of sweat-slicked skin. And then Bokuto drops him, slamming a high five into Konoha's waiting hands.

On the other end of the court, Oikawa Tooru holds his head up high and slams a palm into Iwaizumi Hajime's back. His team huddles as Oikawa gives them words full of encouragement. Half of them hold their head up just as high. The other half bow their heads in frustration—some of the younger teammates rub the back of their hands against their eyes.

And then Coach Yamiji breaks their circle, just as Aoba Josai's coach breaks their celebration, offering them words of congratulations and advice.

And then they line up at the net, each shaking hands with the opposite team member's respective player. They go down the line, and Akaashi's too tired to mind the many clammy, sweat filled hands—all of them callused, just like Semi Eita's.

All Akaashi can think of is taking a hot shower and drinking a cup of freshly brewed tea.

 

\--

 

"Fukurodani?" Semi asks, brows raising high until Akaashi's certain they'll fly off his face and shoot into outer space. "That's the team you're on?"

"Yeah," Akaashi mutters. He starts to flip through his book, eyes scanning the passages to find the one his teacher had assigned. "That's the one." Then a hand stops him, slamming onto the page he's on.

"You're Fukurodani's setter," Semi says, "That's a powerhouse school!"

Akaashi sighs and grips onto his fingers, peeling Semi's hand off of the page. "I'm well aware of that. Now, can you get your hand off of my book?" Semi removes his hand, but he continues to stare at Akaashi like he's grown a second—maybe third—head.

Akaashi finds himself back at the tea shop after a fresh shower and a change of clothes. Before anyone on his team could notice, he had slipped out with the intent of returning to the old tea shop. He had found Semi in his usual seat and slipped in next to him, the latter nodding his head at Akaashi in acknowledgement—that is, until Semi started asking about which team he's currently on.

"You have Bokuto Koutarou on your team, right? Your ace?" Semi continues to ask. His notebook and calculus book are both abandoned on the table, yunomi cup dangerously close to tipping over and spilling green tea over their pages. Akaashi keeps his eye on it and shifts his own cup away from his notebook.

"Yes," he answers. "You? What school do you go to?"

Semi purses his lips. "Shiratorizawa."

That catches Akaashi's attention.

"Shiratorizawa, as in Ushiwaka's Shiratorizawa school?" he clarifies. Semi shrugs and leans his elbows on the table to support his head.

"He actually hates it when people call him that. Wakatoshi prefers it when people use his name," he replies, and suddenly, his notebook is a lot more interesting as he scribbles mindlessly in the margins next to his half-solved calculus problems.

Akaashi utters a small, "Ah," and then, "My apologies. You have Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of Japan's top three aces." Semi drops his pencil and tilts his head up to look at Akaashi, who stares back without any emotion.

"Yeah, we have Wakatoshi," Semi says. He takes a deep breath and folds his hands behind his head. "But Bokuto isn't anyone to laugh at either."

Akaashi thinks to the multiple times Konoha and Komi lead their captain astray, and the way he sometimes falls into his infamous 'dejected mode'. Then he remembers the many times Bokuto blunders on the court during practice, leading to raucous laughter from their teammates. Though Semi means something completely different, Akaashi _knows_ Bokuto is someone that can easily incite laughter.

Semi continues, completely unaware of the thoughts that flash through Akaashi's head. "He's number five, isn't he? In the nation, I mean?"

"He is," Akaashi confirms, "But Ushijima is already impressive enough as it is, considering he's, let me reiterate, one of the top three aces in the country." Semi snorts, but there's a hint of pride in his eyes. He drops his arms to the table. His yunomi cup trembles and tips dangerously, yet it rights itself before it can tilt onto Semi's textbook.

"He's really good. Watching him spike is almost like having a religious moment with volleyball. Once you see it, you want to improve, even catch up to him if possible." His words faintly remind Akaashi of Karasuno's Hinata Shouyou, who would agree and add that anything pertaining to volleyball could be considered 'religious'. 

"It must be nice to set to him," Akaashi mumbles. Semi falters, face falling infinitesimally. For a second, Akaashi wonders why, then remembers that Semi _was_ a setter. Now, he's a pinch server—sometimes, setter.

"It was nice," Semi says with a heavy sigh, an almost reminiscent glint in his intense eyes. "Knowing he could spike one of my sets with such power was incredible. But then Shirabu, our current setter joined, and coach thought that he was exactly what Wakatoshi needed. He didn't need a setter who wanted to show off—he wanted a setter who could blend quietly into the background and be Wakatoshi's backbone."

It's the most Semi's said, and Akaashi listens, his literature homework also abandoned. Semi has a corner of his mouth quirked, but rather than a smile, it's a scornful look. As if it's directed toward himself and maybe a bit towards Shirabu. Then he runs a hand through his hair, tufts of dip-dyed tips swinging with movement.

"Why am I telling you all of this?" Semi mutters to himself. Akaashi shrugs and flips a page in his book mindlessly. His eyes dart to the ornate picture of an old plant and decides that he can read later.

"I can understand," Akaashi says. Semi turns his gaze to him, brow rising in question. "Not everything," he amends, "but I can understand setting and having someone strong spike the ball. Bokuto is...energetic, to say the least. He knows how to hit the ball, and it's almost like he celebrates after each successful spike. It's really inspiring to see someone enjoy a sport so passionately."

"I wish I could see them go against each other," Semi says. He shifts so that his cheek is cradled in his palm, slumping over his work. Again, the yunomi cup teeters.

Akaashi cocks his head, furrowing his brows. "You will. We have a practice match against each other at the end of the week." The other setter pushes himself up, leaning forward with interest.

"Really? We do? Coach mentioned that we had a practice match against another school, but he never told us which one. Huh, so I guess I do get to see how Bokuto Koutarou plays," Semi muses.

"And I'll get to see Ushiwa—sorry, habit—Ushijima Wakatoshi play," Akaashi reciprocates his interest and a bit of his enthusiasm, ending with a slight smile. Semi slides his elbows forward, and finally— _finally_ —his yunomi cup can no longer defy gravity.

It spills cold green tea all over Semi's notebook.

 

\--

 

Datekou proves to be much more troublesome than Akaashi had anticipated.

Their iron wall is near impenetrable, but he keeps the thought out of his head as he quickly sets to Konoha. The wing spiker slams the ball right into the troublesome middle blocker with no eyebrows, and it rebounds. Komi rushes forward, but it connects with the ground, leaving Datekou at set point. Fukurodani is a point away from set point, but at the rate at which Bokuto's mood is falling, Akaashi isn't sure what will happen.

"Go! You can do this!" Suzumeda shouts from the sidelines. Coach Yamiji sits on the bench, one leg folded over the other, thumb and index finger probing at his chin.

Konoha scowls and wipes his fists against his shorts, a nervous habit Akaashi has become accustomed to. He knows what he needs to do, and his plan will only work if Bokuto's able to spike.

Datekou serves a fast ball, but Komi gets to it, receiving it and sending it to Akaashi's waiting fingertips. He chances a glance at Bokuto, and his captain leaps into the air, just as Konoha jumps on his other side. Datekou's new setter shoots out a hand, but Bokuto slams through, ball pushing past and falling inbounds.

Now Fukurodani is also at set point.

And they have a game to win.

 

\--

 

"Are you here all the time?" Semi asks when Akaashi slides into the seat. He pulls out a novel and places it on the tabletop, then stuffs his bag between the wall and the chair.

"It's a good place to get stuff done," Akaashi responds, "but I could ask the same about you."

Semi gestures down at his tea-stained notebook. "I live in the area, so I've been coming here almost every week since...forever? You're from Tokyo—you don't exactly have that excuse."

Akaashi shrugs. "It must be nice to have a place like this to study at." He flips the novel open and starts thumbing through the pages until he's at his place. "And it's really peaceful."

"Peaceful," Semi snorts. He lifts a hand and gestures around the shop, toward all the old customers who sit at round tables and gossip about their lives and grandchildren. One old man laughs so hard, he starts choking on his tea. "This is your definition of peaceful." He's obviously doubtful about Akaashi's reason, but so what?

"Tokyo's much louder," he mumbles. He thinks back to the countless times of trying to study, only to be disturbed by a group of teenage girls swooning over a new cake. Or a rowdy crowd of boys who 'ooh' and 'ahh' at the latest manga edition. Or even the numerous businessmen who talk loudly on their phone, using so much business jargon that Akaashi's almost convinced they're speaking gibberish. "This," he nods to their surroundings, "is nothing."

Semi gives him a dubious look but relents, going back to his problems. Akaashi reads half a page before Semi interrupts again. "What's it like in Tokyo?" Akaashi glances over at Semi's notebook to find that he's only done half of a problem.

He raises a brow. "Haven't you been there before?" he asks. "For nationals?"

Semi gives him an exasperated sigh. "Ok, what I meant is, what's it like living in Tokyo? It has to be different from Miyagi."

Akaashi sets down his book. "Miyagi is very...green." He settles on this and picks up his cup.

"Green."

"Yes, green. Tokyo is very monotone—grey, black, white. That's what you normally see because it's all concrete. Miyagi has a more nature-ish feel to it," he says. "It's very pleasant."

Semi snorts. "You mean boring. Nothing really happens around here unless you go to Sendai. But even then, I don't think it really compares to Tokyo."

"Probably not," Akaashi admits. "But I think that's the case with where we live right? All other places seem far more interesting when you visit for a day or two. For me, Miyagi is very charming for its older structures and its mountains. You don't get to really see that in Tokyo."

"True," Semi says, briefly raising his brows. He tilts his head and then stares at Akaashi. "What year did you say you were in?"

"I didn't say. But I'm in my second year." He thumbs a page and skims over the bottom half of his book.

"Huh," Semi utters, "I would have pegged you for third. You're a lot more mature than some of my other classmates. But I would assume people are more mature in Tokyo?"

His mind panders over Bokuto, Komi, and Konoha and their combined tomfoolery outside of practice. Then the image of Bokuto and Kuroo hanging together and flashing him peace signs pops through his mind, and he shudders. "Not necessarily."

This sets Semi off on a round of laughter. His shoulders shake with mirth, and he covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. "Troublesome third-years?"

Again, his mind conjures up Bokuto's eager grin, Komi's mischievous smirk, and Konoha's devious eyes. "You could say that."

"I can get behind that. I'm a third year student, but sometimes my friends can be a pain in the ass. Satori—one of my teammates—is especially bad. But pair him with Hayato, our libero, and they're horrible. For some reason, you second years are so calm." Semi gives Akaashi a once over. "Shirabu and Kawanishi have this sort of calm to them. You kind of remind me of them: studious like Shirabu and always tired, like Kawanishi."

Akaashi prods at his eye bags. They can't be that bad, right? He's not _that_ sleep-deprived.

Semi doesn't notice. "But god, Satori can really get on my nerves." He scowls at whatever memory he's conjured in his head. "He'll probably get on yours too."

"More water?" the old lady at the counter pops up between them, holding a pot of steaming water. Like clockwork, Semi and Akaashi slide their cups forward, and she tilts the pot, letting boiling water slide into their cups. They both bow their heads in thanks and slide their cups back to their respective spots. She gives them both a kind smile and moves off to the next table.

Semi digs into his pocket and fishes out his phone. He types in a few things and then hands it over to Akaashi, the bright screen illuminating his face. "Here, put your number in, if that's all right with you?" Akaashi blinks, and then takes it, entering his number.

He pulls out his own phone, and they trade numbers.

Semi motions at their stuff. "Since you come here too, and I assume you'll come tomorrow too? I've seen you for the past few consecutive days, so if you're here first, just text me. I'll do the same. That way, we both have somewhere to sit." Akaashi nods in response.

They both fall into silence, Akaashi picking up his book to resume his spot and Semi continuing his math problems. He's a page and a half through, when Semi interrupts again.

"You don't happen to know anything about calculus, do you?"

 

\--

 

"Akaashi!" There it is, that signature distortion of his surname, filled with a whine and pout as Bokuto bursts through the door. Surprisingly, it's not Konoha that follows behind him, it's Sarukui, who has a towel wrapped tightly around his head to hide a mass of dark hair. Akaashi knows there's trouble brewing because normally lax and chill, Sarukui has his brows furrowed and a hand massaging his forehead.

Bokuto, on the other hand, is evidently distressed. Mouth jutted into half a frown, half a pout and his eyes wide and earnest, he's the picture of faux sadness. His hair hangs heavily around his face, still damp, and Akaashi watches as a few drops splatter onto the hardwood floor, barely missing his bag. As conspicuously as possible, he kicks it to the side.

Sarukui sees, and a small smile graces his face. Though, his thumb and index finger continue to massage his temples. Bokuto, on a mission, doesn't notice.

"Akaashi!" he repeats, and his tone is so despondent that Akaashi has war flashbacks of his 'dejected mood' disrupting a nationals tournament match. They'd nearly lost, but luckily, at the last minute, had pulled through. "Are you hiding something from us?"

The question is unexpected, and Akaashi cocks a brow, thumbing through his book to find his page. He easily finds the dog-eared bookmark and smoothes it out. "What are you talking about?"

"He's talking about—" Sarukui is shoved roughly to the side, letting Konoha—the bane of Akaashi's existence—slide into view. He leans heavily against the door frame, arms crossed and mischievous grin painted on his face. "—your secret."  

Sarukui sighs, and his head drops further onto his palm. Konoha finishes with a triumphant raise of his brows. Bokuto's pout grows, and he nods.

"I still don't understand. What are you talking about?" Akaashi lets the book drop to his lap, confusion running amok in his brain. To his knowledge, he's done well so far in the games—it's not like he's got a new tactic running up his sleeve, especially with his days filled with practice matches, drills, and sweat. He barely has time to think about schoolwork, reserving that for his time with Semi.

Komi pops his head through the door and observes their surroundings, reading the atmosphere. "Are we finally asking Akaashi about his secret girlfriend?"

"Secret girlfriend?" he repeats, incredulous. His brows raise high, any higher and he knows his expression will stick. But he's taken aback, baffled at how they've come to this united conclusion. Of course, he's used to them messing around for fun, but this is a new level of—Akaashi can't even think of a word to use, too flustered to answer properly.

"Or boyfriend," Konoha suggests.

Bokuto leans in close, hands pulling at the hem of his shirt and fidgeting wildly. Konoha knocks his head against the frame, and Komi slides in to plop himself cross-legged onto the ground. Sarukui's expression reads that he disapproves, but he doesn't stop the others, just as curious.

This must be what hell looks like.

"Agh, don't be shy!" Komi waves a hand dismissively. "You know you can tell us anything."

"But I don't have one?" His audience jeers, excluding Sarukui. "I'm serious!"

Bokuto's frown persists, and he opens his mouth to say something when he's interrupted by Konoha. "Well, where do you disappear off to after the matches? You take a shower, and then _whoosh_ , you're gone." His use of onomatopoeia immediately brings the image of Hinata Shouyou to mind, though the latter is the picture of innocence. The former is far from it.

"I go to a tea shop and do homework," Akaashi answers, "The team sometimes gets too loud for me to concentrate."

"Sure." Konoha stretches the word out. "Come on, you can—"

"Don't force yourself."

Everyone turns in surprise to find Washio standing behind the small crowd, a towel draped across his shoulders. He towers over them, even taller to Akaashi, who's sitting cross-legged with his book weighing on his lap.

"Come on, aren't you curious?" Komi pokes at Washio's thigh. The latter shakes his head and gestures at his mat, the intent of sleeping hidden behind his impassive gaze.

"Tired."

At that, the other third years give a collective grumble, shut down completely when Washio directs a sharp glare at them. Then, they disperse to their respective mats. Bokuto is the last to leave, but he watches Akaashi like he doesn't fully believe him.

Akaashi ignores him and picks up his book, and when the middle blocker passes him by, he mumbles a quiet, "Thank you."

Taciturn as ever, Washio only nods and pulls his blanket over his head.

 

\--

 

The Karasuno-Fukurodani reunion goes just about expected.

Their presence catches the opposing team off guard, and they're greeted by Hinata Shouyou's excited shriek, "Bokuto-san!" The latter reciprocates with equal, if not more, enthusiasm. The both of them leap into the air, absolutely vibrating with anticipation and eagerness.

"My disciple!" Bokuto exclaims, waving his arms around Hinata, as if he's showing off a brand new, shiny trophy to both teams. Hinata beams with pride, and his spine straightens, bright orange tufts bouncing with joy.

On the other hand, Tsukishima Kei looks as if he's ready to crawl under a hole and die. Even more so when Bokuto shouts, "Tsukki!" in greeting. He barely avoids the brawny captain's punch to the arm but not quick enough to dodge the slap to his back. The Karasuno middle blocker lurches forward and Bokuto takes the chance to ruffle his hair. Then Bokuto barks out a proud laugh and moves to greet Sawamura, who gives him a firm handshake.

Tsukishima scowls and removes his glasses to wipe them against his shirt. Then he catches Akaashi's stare and nods in greeting. Akaashi returns it with his own slight nod.

And then he feels it.

The hairs on the back of his neck and forearm rise in alarm, and he holds back from flinching. Not for the first time, he feels like he's caught the attention of a predator. The only person he knows to have such an intense gaze stands across the gym, volleyball gripped tightly in his hands. Akaashi fidgets and wipes his hands on his shorts. He makes his way over to the cart of volleyballs and picks a Mikasa ball to test in his hands.

When he turns, he nearly yelps in surprise because somehow, Kageyama is a fucking ghost. Able to traverse across the gym without sound and transparently curious as he stares at Akaashi. He doesn't seem to notice that Akaashi has noticed him because his mumbling is now audible.

"What have you learned? What has Fukurodani come up with? How long have you been playing setter? Volleyball? When did you learn to set? What techniques have you discovered? When...?"

It's an impressive amount of words strung together and said in one breath. Everything about him radiates intensity.

"Uh," Akaashi starts. This catches Kageyama's attention, who realizes he's been caught. The younger setter fumbles with the ball in his hands, nearly dropping it, and reverts back to a flustered first year. "Hello," Akaashi tries.

Kageyama blinks wide-eyed, and then he drops into a perfect ninety-degree bow. "Hello!" he shouts. This catches the attention of everyone within a twenty-foot radius, and then Sugawara Koushi is dragging Kageyama away by the scruff of his neck and alternating between scolding him and apologizing to Akaashi.

Before he can get a word out, the pair disappear among the other Karasuno teammates, one of whom wears what he thinks to be a challenging glare on his face—until Sugawara slaps the back of his head and hisses, "Tanaka!"

The bald one—Tanaka—catches Akaashi's stare and sends him another intense glare. To Akaashi, he looks constipated more than anything else, but he keeps his tongue in check. Sugawara grabs Tanaka's ear and drags him away flailing and protesting.

Akaashi chuckles.

Karasuno is as entertaining as ever.

 

\--

 

"Karasuno?" Semi says incredulously. "How were they? Annoying? Pesky? Intense?"

"All, I guess," Akaashi answers. He flicks his index finger and turns the page of his novel. He's three-quarters of the way, but the climax seems to drag on longer than he'd like. Semi nods in thought and drinks out of his yunomi cup. "But they played a good game. They've definitely improved."

"Could that middle blocker improve anymore? He managed to block Wakatoshi—our Wakatoshi—the third best ace in the country. Who will he block next? Sakusa? Now that, I'd pay to see," Semi snorts. There's a hint of bitterness in his tone, school pride still wounded by Miyagi's spring tournament.

Akaashi shrugs. "He's much more into volleyball, if anything else. He used to be less passionate—almost like he'd barely try. At least, that's how I remember him from our first training week with Karasuno." He skims the page, thumbing through the rest and feeling his stomach drop at having to finish such a dragged out plot.

"He seemed pretty into it during the prefecture finals," Semi mutters. He huffs a breath and crosses his arms, pouting almost petulantly. Akaashi glances at him, internally scoffing at the way Semi is glaring at his yunomi cup. There's no more steam, and he tries to surreptitiously glimpse at the counter. The old woman sits at the counter atop a stool, legs swinging as she laughs at another old woman's rapid gossip. There's no sign or intention of making hot water rounds.

"You know," Akaashi starts, ready to change the topic. Semi doesn't seem to want to think about the final match, which is evidently still fresh on his mind. The other turns to him and waits. "My team thinks I have a secret significant other."

The abrupt change of topic catches Semi off guard, and his brows rise. "Why is that?"

Akaashi sets down the book, letting the spine hit the edge of the table. "They say I disappear off after every match. Just to come here."

"What, for me?" Semi chuckles. His arms drop so that his forearms rest on the table surface. His grin turns teasing, completely unbothered by Akaashi's words.

"Ha ha," Akaashi deadpans. "Hilarious. But no. I have stuff to work on. You just happen to be decent company."

Semi leans back but grabs onto his cup, running a finger around the rim. "Decent company," he mumbles, "I'm fantastic company." Then his voice rises to normal level, "Screw what they think, you know. Just do your own thing. Let them think what they want."

"I know," Akaashi says. He slumps back and drops the book onto the table. It slides forward and snaps shut. Akaashi mourns his lost page. "They can be a bit much when determined. It can get a little annoying."

Semi cocks his head and shrugs with one shoulder. His mouth pulls taut, and he sighs. "You're not the only one dealing with that." Akaashi tilts his head up to look at him, and Semi sends him a lop-sided smile. "My team seems to think you're my secret boyfriend."

"Why? Don't you always come here to study anyway?"

To answer Akaashi's question, Semi simply tilts his head back and points at the owner of the tea shop, who's starting her hot water rounds. "She's my teammate's grandmother. And she thinks we're something."

Akaashi scowls, "She seemed like such an innocent old lady."

"Well, appearances can be deceiving. If you ever meet her grandson, you'd figure out how eccentric they both can be," Semi says. He pushes himself up and gathers both of their cups, sliding them to the edge of the table. Right on cue, the old woman hobbles to a stop next to their table. For the first time, Akaashi sees the glint in her eyes, and when he turns to Semi, the other gives him a look that says, 'I told you so.'

When she moves away, Akaashi mouths 'wow.' Semi bursts out laughing, and at his peripheral, Akaashi notices the old woman turn to glance at them.

"Screw what they all think, right?" Semi snickers. He pushes the yunomi cups to the center of the table, away from potentially destroying any partially done homework. He's learned his lesson from the first time.

Akaashi huffs a laugh. "Yeah, screw what they all think."

"That's the spirit."

 

\--

 

Today's the day.

Akaashi takes a deep breath and pulls on his jersey, heart thumping hard and heavy in his chest cavity. The bus continues to rattle and bump as it maneuvers its way up the steep mountainous path. He's not completely sure about the exact reason why his nerves are so jittered. It could be 1) he's really going to play against the famed Ushijima Wakatoshi for the first time, 2) it's their last match before returning to Tokyo, or 3) he'll be facing Semi Eita from the opposite end of the court rather than next to him at their designated place in the tea shop. 

Bokuto fidgets next to him, bobbing his head up and down to whatever music is playing on his phone. To anyone else, he's the picture of casualness. But Akaashi, who always has his eye on the captain to make sure he doesn't spiral, knows he's also supporting frayed nerves.

In fact, the energy on the bus is electrified. Konoha's leg is restless, knee bumping up and down as he wipes his hands against his shorts. Komi, who's normally asleep, is staring out the window at the multitude of trees that rush by in virescent streaks. Sarukui rests his forehead against the back of the Konoha's seat, taking deep and quiet breaths.

The only exception is Washio, who has his eyes closed and arms crossed to his chest. But everyone knows he's not asleep.

Even Coach Yamiji, mostly known to be cool and collected, has his fists balled up at his thighs, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Shirofuku and Suzumeda both whisper among each other, phones side by side as they swipe through new tactics they've observed from last night's international volleyball game.

Without a word, Akaashi puffs out his cheeks and blows out all the air in one swoop. Bokuto glances at him, bobbing momentarily paused, and Akaashi gives him a small, encouraging smile. After his captain reciprocates, he turns away and leans his head against the cool window.

He'll need a clear mind to face Shiratorizawa.

And Semi.

 

\--

 

Before they enter the gymnasium, which is _huge_ compared to any other Miyagi prefecture school they've played at, Bokuto gathers them all in a huddle, Akaashi squished against his burly captain's side.

He's quiet, an unnatural feat considering that he's _Bokuto Koutarou_. Everyone holds in their breath, watching him with trepidation and anticipation. Bokuto heaves a large breath and fishes through his pocket to pull out the lucky charm he'd bought on their first day. He holds up the charm, tiny against his callused palm and runs a finger over the little kanji 'luck' carved into the wood.

"We're gonna win against all of our opponents," he declares. There's a quiet determination in his gaze, a fire that appears with a stone-willed resolution. It's one of these little moments that remind Akaashi that Bokuto is their true, natural-born captain. "And that includes Shiratorizawa."

 

\--

 

The first person Akaashi seeks out is Semi, and he finds his signature dip-dyed tufts next to a shock of tall, red hair. Shiratorizawa is in their own little huddle, and Ushijima Wakatoshi is much bigger and much more intimidating than what he looks like on TV. To be fair, he looks likes a blip on television—everyone looks like a blip when on a limited, pixilated screen.

They break their huddle just as Coach Yamiji greets their coach, a frail old man wearing a nasty scowl. Semi turns, and Akaashi catches his eye. His friend immediately sends him a lop-sided grin and pivots at his heel to gesture at the gangly teammate with hair like fire. He mouths 'that's him'.

Him?

At Akaashi's confused expression, mouth wobbling to keep his smile hidden, Semi starts to move forward. But not before the teammate he pointed at whirls around and catches him, looping his equally long arms around Semi's shoulder. Instantly, there's a scowl painted on his friend's face as the red-haired teammate greets with a loud, "Semi-Semi! Whatcha lookin' at?"

Semi's scowl deepens, and he shoots Akaashi an apologetic look, just as Bokuto slings his arm over Akaashi's back.

"You ready to go?" Bokuto beams. His voice is overbearingly loud, but Akaashi's used to it. He only nods at the net, clutching the strap of his bag tighter in his grip.

"As ready as can be."

 

\--

 

Ushijima is a force to be reckoned with.

Komi leaps to the side, barely catching Ushijima's spike, and it rockets off his fingertips and shoots out of court. Fukurodani's libero slams the ground with his fist and hides his face against the gym floor. Akaashi heaves a breath and straightens, wiping the back of his hand against his brow. Coach Yamiji stands, hands positioned in a 'T', and the whistle blows.

Just before he regroups with his team, he notices Semi watching him from across the court, waiting to be put in play. His friend cocks his head and grins, lips moving. There's no sound, judging from the lack of response from his teammates, but Akaashi knows what he says.

'We'll beat you.'

He only snorts.

 

\--

 

Washio launches the ball into the air, and Shiratorizawa's libero receives it. The ball volleys to the quiet setter, a young man with oddly cut asymmetrical bangs and a neutral expression. As expected, he sets the ball to Ushijima. Their ace avoids the block and sends a cross spike right into Komi's waiting arms.

He manages to receive the ball, sending it to Akaashi, whose eyes dart between Bokuto and Konoha. One will spike at the center—two blockers in his midst. The other will inevitably gain their team a point.

So Akaashi fires the ball at Bokuto, who slams it down in a near-perfect straight. The ball hurtles past the red-haired blocker, landing in-bounds. A few centimeters away from the line between their set point and Shiratorizawa's set point.

Shirofuku and Suzumeda cheer loudly from the sidelines, and Bokuto lets out an excited shout. From across the court, Akaashi notices a player with an old-fashioned bowl cut grab onto Semi's arm, pointing and exclaiming, "Did you see that?! That straight was awesome!!"

His enthusiasm reminds Akaashi of Hinata Shouyou.

There's a lot about Miyagi that reminds him of Hinata Shouyou.

Semi scoffs, then turns, accidentally making eye contact with Akaashi. He juts out his lips and nods his head, as if saying, 'Not bad, not bad.'

Akaashi shakes his head and turns. The hair on the back of his neck stand, not unlike his encounter with Kageyama, and he glances over his shoulder to see the red-haired middle blocker staring at him with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between him and Semi. He opens his mouth.

Before he can say anything, Akaashi's attention is distracted by Coach Yamiji, who calls for him to come over. When he joins his team, he notices Konoha giving him similar looks with both brows raised.

Akaashi ignores them.

 

\--

 

They're on their third set, both teams having each won one set.

Akaashi takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and trying to remain level-headed. Bokuto has gone into 'dejected mode', mood dipped by his mounting frustration from his increasing number of mistakes. So far, he's spiked into a waiting block, shot a ball into the net, and accidentally slammed the ball into Sarukui's side.

The ball flies in Akaashi's direction, and in a split second, he sends it soaring to Washio, who slams it between two blockers, the ball barely brushing their fingertips before launching past them. Their team cheers, excluding Bokuto, who's standing off the side with a lost expression painted on his face.

The red-haired middle blocker makes a face and sneers at Bokuto. "Is that really your captain?"

The words aren't meant for anybody, but Akaashi responds anyway. "He'll make a comeback. You'll see."

For a moment, the blocker stares at him, then turns to Bokuto. He swipes a tongue across his bottom lip and grins manically.

"I hope so."

 

\--

 

"Bokuto-san!" Akaashi shouts. The ball flies from his fingertips, and he puts everything he can into that final toss: his determination, his trust, his years of built up skill and intuition. For a fearful moment, Akaashi's heart stalls as he watches the ball lingers in the air while Bokuto stares helplessly.

Then his captain is running, knees bending just as he jumps—soars up, palm slicing the air as he blasts the ball down _hard_ onto Shiratorizawa's side of the court. The opposing team's libero surges forward and dives, but he's too far. There's a definite slam that ricochets around the gym, and both teams pause, breaths bated, as the ball bounces on the gym floor, gradually lessening until it taps the wall.

There's a whistle accompanied with the flip of their score chart.

33-31.

Fukurodani has won the set.

Akaashi breathes out a shaky laugh, sweat sliding down his temples, and turns, grin widening with the realization that they've won. Bokuto's form is still hunched over, but when Akaashi and their other teammates rush toward him, arms outstretched with smiles rivaling the sun, their captain straightens proudly, chin tilted in the air.

He releases a booming laugh as they all collapse on one another. Akaashi feels the wind rush from his lungs as he's crushed from Konoha's elbow. Komi's foot digs into his back, and he can feel Bokuto's heated breath against his shoulder as he huffs in laughter and pride. They're all too exhilarated to care that they're all drenched in sweat and smell like dirty socks.

Never mind that this is only a practice match. Their win feels like a win at nationals.

 

\--

 

As they go down the net shaking their opponents' hands, Semi stops him. His friend tilts his head, and Akaashi leans forward.

"Congratulations," he mutters, words for Akaashi only. "Good game. You guys were amazing."

Before he can respond, Semi lets go and moves down the line. It's not until Konoha shoves him forward that Akaashi remembers to move.

 

\--

 

After a hot shower, Akaashi steps into a locker room filled with steam, unable to see his reflection on any of the mirrors. His teammates are still messing around in the showers, and he can hear a yelp that sounds suspiciously like Bokuto and a cackle from Komi and Konoha. He can almost hear Sarukui's sigh of exasperation, but maybe that's just the hiss of the water.

Who knows?

He pulls the towel tighter against his waist and sits on the bench, breathing out in relief. Hot water always does wonders for his sore muscles. Something catches his eye, the blue light from his phone flickering to indicate he has a new text. Picking it up, he hunches over to read a new message from Semi.

>> _Teacher needs me today, so I'll be a bit late to the tea shop if you're still down to go?_

He responds with a thumbs up, and not a minute later, Semi responds.

>> _Save me a spot!_

"Who're you texting?"

Akaashi snaps his head up to see Konoha saunter in, towel wrapped around his waist and another wrapped around his neck. His teammate uses the end of the one around his neck to scrub at his head, aggressively ruffling his hair until there are a few strands that stand straight up.

"Nothing," he responds, automatically putting his phone to sleep and setting it face down.

"Huh," Konoha mutters.

 

\--

 

Their usual table is occupied.

Though, that's not the reason why Akaashi's heart is pounding in his chest, faster than it had during their match with Shiratorizawa. Nor does it explain why his hands immediately clench and unclench on the hem of his shirt, suddenly cold and clammy and unsure of what he should do next.

He's about to pivot on his heel and leave out the door, phone already in his hand as he prepares to fire off a text to Semi about not being able to make it. That is, until the old woman behind the counter waves at him, wrinkles curving up as she smiles widely at him.

"I have you and Semi's pot already made," she says and hobbles a little to the left, then lifts a teapot as proof. Akaashi opens and shuts his mouth multiple times, gaping at her in loss. And then his eyes flit over to their usual table, occupied by a familiar set of faces.

The red-haired Shiratorizawa middle blocker sits in Akaashi's usual seat, and two other seats are filled. A wing spiker and a libero.

Suddenly, his eyes catch red irises that widen in the same mischievous way that could rival Konoha's or Komi's. And, oh god, he's waving at Akaashi to come over, grin stretching across his face. The other two turn to see what's got his attention, and they stare curiously at Akaashi. The wing spiker smiles kindly in greeting. The libero lifts a hand and waves with a peace sign.

Almost hesitantly, he makes his way to them, avoiding the multitude of old men and women and families that scatter around the area. When he reaches them, he keeps his fists clenched on the hem of his shirt.

The middle blocker has both elbows on his table, head supported on interlinked fingers. The way he slouches over and stares at Akaashi is almost reptilian. The latter half expects a tongue to flicker in and out of sight.

"Oh ho ho, look at what we have. Fukurodani's setter?" he says, but the way he sings his words is mocking. "Are you the one who's eating up Eita's time?" The wing spiker sighs, burying his head in his hands.

"I suppose," Akaashi answers, though his tone isn't as steady as he wants it to be.

"Satori, stop it," the wing spiker scolds.

"Yeah, dude, you're making him uncomfortable," the libero chimes in. He pulls out a seat and gestures for Akaashi to sit. "I don't blame you if you decide to sit somewhere else."

Akaashi doesn't know why he does it, but his body moves without thinking and sits. It feels a little odd because he's sitting in Semi's usual seat. The libero flashes him a surprised look, almost as if he expected him to turn down his offer.

"I'm Oohira Reon," the wing spiker introduces himself. "It's nice to formally meet you."

"Yamagata Hayato." That's the libero, who continues and points at the middle blocker. "That idiot over there is Tendou Satori." Tendou snorts, hands falling to his lap.

Akaashi stifles a smile and introduces himself, "Akaashi Keiji."

"Satori?" All four of them turn to see the old woman holding a pot and two yunomi cups. When she notices Akaashi, her face brightens. "Oh, do you go to Shiratorizawa as well, dear?" she asks.

"No, grandma," Tendou answers before Akaashi can get a word out. "He's from Tokyo." To Akaashi's surprise, the old woman's brows rise, and she clucks her tongue in disapproval.

"Learn to speak more formally to your elders," she admonishes. Tendou pouts and crosses his arms. Then she turns her attention to the other young men. "Hello, Oohira. Yamagata. How were classes today?"

"Good, Tendou-san. They're going well," Oohira answers, sending her a warm smile. Yamagata nods in agreement.

Something clicks in Akaashi's brain, and his eyes immediately flicker toward Tendou, who's still slouching in his seat. Suddenly, all of Semi's motions toward Tendou and his mouthing 'that's him' makes sense. His words echo from somewhere in Akaashi's memory.

_She's my teammate's grandmother. And she thinks we're something._

Tendou Satori.

Tendou-san.

The family that owns the shop is Tendou's family.

Akaashi doesn't know how to process the information, so he just bows to her in greeting. She sets down the yunomi cups and asks, "Do you want yours now? Or wait until Semi arrives?"

"No need, I'm already here." The voice comes from behind her, fraught with disapproval and frustration. To Akaashi's relief, Semi slides by and yanks an unoccupied chair from the neighboring table, also unoccupied. He settles next to Akaashi, stance almost defensive between him and the middle blocker.

Tendou's grandmother pours them their cups of tea, not bothering to hide her growing smile. She shoots a glare at her grandson and then moves to the next table. Yamagata shoves the cups forward, sliding one to Akaashi and the other to Semi.

"What are you doing?" Semi asks, brows furrowed as he glares at Tendou. The latter holds up his hands defensively.

"I just wanted to meet your boyfriend."

Yamagata chokes, and Oohira's eyes widen as he slaps his friend's back. The libero rasps out, "Boyfriend?" before falling into a coughing fit.

"He's my friend," Semi grinds out. "And study partner." Tendou places his elbows on the table and resumes his inquisitive posture. He cocks his head and stares challengingly at Semi. The latter doesn't even flinch. Judging by Oohira and Yamagata's relaxed stance, Akaashi can guess that this is a common occurrence.

"Sure, sure," Tendou says. At Semi's fierce glare, he cocks a brow in disbelief, yet sighs. "Regardless, you don't hang out with us anymore. We were curious as to who you were seeing instead."

" _You_ were curious," Oohira amends. Yamagata nods, pursing his lips at Tendou's words. "We're here cause you dragged us here."

"And promised us free snacks," the libero adds.

"Way to throw me under the bus," the middle blocker mutters. Akaashi's hands continue to clench and unclench his shirt. At this point, it's noticeably wrinkled. The movement steals Semi's attention, who gives him a look that asks if he's all right.

Akaashi nods, but Semi pushes the yunomi cup closer to him.

"Drink," is all he says. Akaashi obliges, taking a small sip, and finds that holding the cup is a better way of occupying his hands.

"Oya?" The loud exclamation pierces the air from the doorway. Conversations start to die as people look for the source of the sound, quickly discovering that it came from the young man near the counter. Akaashi feels the pit of his stomach grow into a cavernous expanse he wishes would swallow him whole. Bokuto locks eyes with him and starts to make his way over. To Akaashi's surprise, he finds Sarukui not far behind wearing a pained expression.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto's voice is loud, commanding attention from curious onlookers. Evidently surprised, Akaashi's name comes out even more garbled than usual. He breathes a deep sigh, letting his metaphorical head bury itself into his hands. In real life, he's frozen and staring at Bokuto's approaching form.

His captain stops in front of the table, arms crossed as he scrutinizes the people occupying Akaashi's table. "Are you fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Fraternizing with the enemy? Do you mean us?" Tendou exclaims. He slams his palms on the table and begins to stand until Semi shoves him down. Oohira and Yamagata glance at each other and then between the two.

Sarukui pulls Bokuto back, giving him a disapproving look. He turns back to the Shiratorizawa members with a slight bow. "Sorry about him. He's just in shock."

Akaashi plants his hands on the table and stands. "What are you doing here?"

"I—well." Bokuto flails his arms, words equally flailing as he attempts to explain himself.

"He wanted to see your secret girlfriend, or significant other," Sakurui answers for him. "He got curious."

Akaashi motions at the Shiratorizawa group, "I don't know how many times I've denied it already, but I don't have a secret significant other. This is Semi," he points at the one mentioned, "and he's the one I've been meeting with for the past week. We just study together. Though that doesn't excuse you both for following me."

"We didn't follow you," Bokuto mutters, eyes downcast. He fidgets with his fingers, evidently feeling some form of shame.

Sarukui shakes his head. "You definitely followed him. And lost him for five minutes, panicked, then found him again." Then he turns to Akaashi, shoulders slumping with a sigh. "Cut him a bit of slack. He was worried about you since you kept disappearing every day after practice." Akaashi's frown lifts a bit, and Bokuto groans loudly, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Same for Satori," Oohira adds, but his eyes are locked on Semi. They all turn their attention to him. "He was worried about you and wanted to make sure the person you were hanging out with was—well—good, for his standards." There's a pause, and then he addresses Akaashi. "I think Satori approves of you. Otherwise, he would have told you off the moment you walked in the shop. And then kicked you out."

"Oi," Tendou warns, but the way his eyes avoid Akaashi's makes him think that Oohira is right. Semi stays quiet, gaze still set on Tendou. The latter flickers his eyes up to his friend, red irises flashing with mortification. Without warning, Semi punches his arm, and Tendou yelps in pain and surprise. "So brutal, Semi-Semi!"

"That doesn't mean you follow me and try to scare off my friend!" Semi bites. However, there's no venom to his tone. If anything, the lines around his eyes soften, and his back slumps into his seat.

"Louder, Bokuto." Akaashi turns back to see Sarukui prodding at their captain. Bokuto mumbles something, and Sarukui pokes at him again. This time, he also places an encouraging hand on his back. "Louder so Akaashi can hear."

Bokuto mumbles again, and Akaashi has to step forward to hear.

"Sorry, Akaashi," he apologizes. For the first time in a while, he's barely audible, Akaashi having to lean close in order to decipher what he says. It's not much, but it's enough for the swell of annoyance and anger to deflate. Bokuto, normally intimidating at first glance, looks entirely too small for Akaashi's tastes. He's shrunk into himself, shoulders hunched and neck craned down as his gaze is glued to the ground.

Akaashi feels himself relax, tension leaving his shoulders. He exhales audibly and gives his captain a weary smile. "It's ok, Bokuto-san." Bokuto peeks up, and when he notices Akaashi's expression, lifts his head just a little. "Just don't do it again. Trust me like you do on the court."

His captain nods, bobbing his head like a scolded child. Sarukui coughs into his fist, hiding a laugh behind his hand. He grabs onto Bokuto's upper arm and throws his thumb over his shoulder. "Why don't we leave them alon—"

"Actually," Akaashi interrupts. He glances at Semi with a grin, one that the latter reciprocates. It's a given ok between the two. "Would you like to join us? Tendou-san always has tea."

Sarukui shrugs and watches Bokuto, who lifts his head fully, shamed pout in place. At first, his gaze avoids Akaashi. Gradually, with Akaashi's patience, he nods in answer. Semi leans back and yanks on two other empty chairs, sliding them towards Akaashi, who places them between himself and Yamagata. The latter scoots over closer to Oohira, and Bokuto and Sarukui both squeeze into their seats. When Akaashi sits, he glances around the table and coughs.

Semi's gaze flits to him, and they both grin at each other before bursting into laughter. To anyone else, the sight of seven large volleyball players crammed into a small round table must be a sight to see. The others watch them: Tendou, Bokuto, and Yamagata—confused. And Oohira and Sarukui, amused.

When their laughter begins to die, Tendou waves them off and stands, shouting over at the counter. "Grandma! We need two more cups!" With a secondary glance at the table and their two newest additions, he adds as an afterthought, "And a lot more tea."

 

\--

 

"So, there really is no girlfriend?" Konoha asks, something akin to disappointment in his tone.

Bokuto nods, "No, just a good friend." He turns to watch Akaashi. The latter pretends to read his novel and flips a page, completely aware of the conversation happening a few feet away. His captain turns back to Konoha. "And it really isn't our business."

Akaashi stifles a smile.

 

\--

 

The sun is just beginning to rise, shooting rays of yellow to pierce the thin veil of blue that begins to bleed into the sky. The only sounds that greet the team are alarms, cicadas, and the rustle of trees as the morning breeze sweeps through the country. The air smells of dew and grass.

Akaashi, to reiterate, is not a morning person. Yet he's wide awake as he shoves his bag into the compartment under the bus. His team moves around him, groggy and sleep-addled.

Bokuto yawns widely, not bothering to cover his mouth, and Komi stumbles after nearly tripping over a stray bag. Konoha catches him before he can topple over and then lifts the bag, tossing it into the compartment. Sarukui is already dozing off on the bus, his forehead pressed against the glass. Washio climbs onto the bus after nodding to Coach Yamiji, who stands next to the door, clipboard in hand. Even their coach can't escape the effects of rising early. He continuously blinks and rubs at his eyes.

The devious duo—Konoha and Komi—clamber onto the bus, followed by Bokuto, who also nearly trips over the first step. Suzumeda prods at Shirofuku, who's barely awake. The latter leans heavily on her junior, eyes already shut and body sagging from effort. They both climb onto the bus, leaving Akaashi the only one still standing outside.

"Akaashi?" Coach Yamiji asks, followed by a wide yawn. One almost as heavy as Bokuto's. Akaashi glances at him, then down at his phone, rereading the message Semi had sent half an hour prior.

>> _Wait for me!!! I wanna so bye before you go!_

"Can you give me five minutes?" he asks, stuffing it in his pocket. His feet shuffle in the dirt in anticipation. 

Coach gives him a look, half-surprised, half-exhausted. But he relents, pointing at his watch, and climbs onto the bus. Akaashi leans against the bus, fingers tapping the shape of his phone that lines his pocket. His other hand clenches and unclenches against the hem of his shirt.

Five minutes feel like an eternity, but when it passes, it passes.

Disappointment heavy in his chest, Akaashi turns and makes his way to the door. He grips on the handle and pulls himself onto the first step.

Suddenly, he hears a yell behind him, almost incoherent. It reminds him of Bokuto's various garbled versions of his name, and he whips around to see Semi rounding a corner, a layer of sweat over his t-shirt. Ignoring Coach Yamiji's annoyed grunt, he leaps off the bus, landing with a plume of dust rising off the ground.

Semi stops in front of him and leans forward to clutch at his knees. He's breathing with effort, dip-dyed tufts half flattened by sweat, half ruffled from the wind. With a few deep breaths, he manages to stand.

"You made it," Akaashi says. He doesn't bother to keep the pleasant surprise out of his tone. Semi huffs a laugh and then leans down to grab at his knees.

"Don't make me laugh. My chest hurts from running so hard," his friend wheezes. There's a pause as Akaashi waits for him to regain his balance.

When Semi finally stands, he places both hands on his hips. "You didn't think I'd come to say goodbye before you left?" Akaashi doesn't answer, only snorts with a small smile painting his face. His friend exhales deeply and holds out a hand.

Akaashi takes it, and Semi yanks him into a surprise hug, looping his arms around him in a tight embrace. He's assaulted with the smell of grass and sweat, but he hugs him back anyway. Then Semi pulls away, keeping their hands folded in one another. He observes Akaashi with a determined glint in his eyes—or maybe that's the sun. Akaashi's not sure.

"The next time I see you, you better be at nationals. You best bet I'm going to watch Fukurodani fight their way to the top," Semi says. He gives Akaashi a lop-sided grin. "If you win against them all, I'll buy you a pot of tea. It'll be on me."

There's something in Akaashi's throat—a cluster of emotions that come from pride and respect and friendship. He chokes it down and squeezes Semi hands, giving the latter a resolute stare.

"We'll win against them all," he vows. "I promise."

  

**Author's Note:**

> Ships--ships everywhere. Take it as you may, but after re-reading through and editing, I realized that I hint at a lot of different, potential ships. Come scream at me about multiple ships. \o/
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.shrimpyboke.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ostenreal)!


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